


I ain't a Kid no more.

by JIARAISENDGAME



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Angry JJ, Drunk JJ, F/M, Fights, JJ and a therapist but he doesn't really give a fuck, JJ and the police, Police, Protective JJ (Outerbanks), Protective Kiara (Outer Banks), Protective Pope (Outerbanks)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JIARAISENDGAME/pseuds/JIARAISENDGAME
Summary: When a certain JJ Maybank gets questioned by the police, things could only spiral downwards from there. The unfair treatment he receives from the cops only fuels his anger that he had convinced himself he wouldn't show to anyone, I guess you can never trust yourself when your life gets that rough, but JJ could. He always had relied on himself and only himself, so when all his anger bubbles up and spills over, he's got nothing to do but turn to alcohol which of course can only make a certain Kiara Carrera go ballistic.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/John B. Routledge, JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara/John B. Routledge, JJ/Kiara/Pope (Outer Banks), JJ/Pope (Outer Banks)
Kudos: 34





	I ain't a Kid no more.

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE THANKS TO iamamuggle14 for editing and helping SO MUCH with this work, it would be shit without your AMAZING skills and talent!

JJ was a complicated person ~~most~~ all of the time. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was drinking, along with smoking, chatting up a Touron and hanging with the Pogues. Most of these pastimes were habits he picked up here and there, things he found himself stumbling into whenever he got bored or wanted to escape, itching for a distraction. They were easy and fun and therefore he was naturally drawn to them. The moments at which said boredom would take hold became exceedingly sporadic as he grew up and the only explanation he was ever given for them sounded something like ‘attention deficit disorder’. JJ didn’t care for labels, though, and that sounded like a stupidly long one, so he brushed it off, assuming everyone got bored every once in a while. Thing is, even with his rough edges and short attention span, it wasn’t hard to love him. In fact, it was easy to fall for his ceaseless charisma and alluring looks. He always did have a boyish charm to him, one that seemed to constantly get him both in and out of trouble, to the point where even he was left shaking his head sometimes. 

The problem was that it was hard for him to love _you._

JJ’s trust issues were incessant and mainly derived from the fact that his dad had a temper and two angry fists and everyone - including his mother - eventually leaves from his life. Now, JJ was at the comfy spot in his life where the Pogues hadn’t quite caught on to that trend yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Pope left for college, Kiara pursued her travels and John B went off with Sarah, somewhere warm and probably distant, knowing JJ’s luck. It’s taught him to savour every moment he has with the people he loved, because the truth was that he loves the Pogues. More than they would ever know, more than JJ could ever say aloud.

Sometimes people left because of his behavior, like the kids at school who found him to be simply too much work, and in turn, trusting even random kids who gave him the slightest bit of attention became a chore he wasn’t interested in taking part in. His reckless behavior was here to stay, though, and anyone who actually knew him knew it would never leave. It provided him a light in the dark tunnel that was his life and he clung to it in the heavier moments, moments where finding a distraction wasn’t so easy, moments where he could see himself ending it, the idea not even sounding half bad in his head. He had his behavior, along with weed and alcohol, of course, although Pope would beg to differ, claiming they only worsened his mental health. JJ had decided from a young age that mental health was a _load of shit_. He’d had his fair share of shitty therapists in his lifetime and if you asked him, he would not hesitate to blatantly announce how useless they were, in every aspect of the word.

The last player in JJ’s trust issues was the police. It wasn’t exactly rare to see a cop dealing with those on The Cut, but JJ had apparently been dealt a dirty hand, getting real nice and familiar with them. He really had **the full load**. Just as many times as they felt the need to question his home life was the exact amount of times he had denied them - an instinct he learned very early on that felt too close to the means of survival, sometimes - denied the supposed shouting and fighting neighbors still felt the need to call in for, even after all this time. The cycle of half-hearted questions and false answers never seemed to end at first. Sure, when JJ was younger, he would seek them out for help, genuine tears streaming down his face as he begged, not knowing any better and inevitably feeling like damaged goods when they would turn him away. They helped him for a bit, but being the fuckers they were - in JJ’s eyes, at least - they had decided there was nothing actually happening that was deserving of their precious time.

They seemed to do that a lot, JJ realized, while also suspecting it was because Luke had been dealing them drugs. People would call him crazy, tell him he was just crying wolf, looking for attention the way kids did sometimes, but he could swear he’d seen them with his dad a couple of times, witnessed the visits himself, even. The nights where JJ was supposed to be asleep but instead overheard the exchanges that took place not ten feet away from his bedroom door. He ignored the part of himself that got confused, because yeah, breaking the law had become another habit he’d picked up - go ahead, add it to the lovely list, he didn’t care - but it wasn’t like anyone was looking up to him for help the way they did to cops, so he knew something wasn’t quite right. _Fucked up_ was his distinct thought the day the daunting realization hit him.

So really, when he broke it down to the bare essentials, the only things that would ever truly help JJ breeze through his miserable life were girls, weed - any drugs, really - alcohol and The Pogues. These were things he didn’t have to question and he liked the straight forwardness of them, not wanting to question every little thing all the time, which was one of the more annoying habits he’s started developing despite his futile efforts to do anything but _overthink_. Thinking took so much time and energy to begin with, overachieving in that particular department only left him dizzy with dread. Considering the short list, he figured they were all he would ever need to fulfill his dreams - which let’s be honest, weren’t really the overly adventurous kind.

JJ had a pretty thorough relationship with the _smell_ of the station. The amount of times he’s found himself sitting in either one of the cells or the interview rooms has forced him to really familiarize himself with the scent and he’s spent enough time in said rooms to realize he hates it. Some people despised the odors of dentist offices or middle school cafeterias but JJ knows the station has them all beat by a mile. And as he sat in the lousy metal chair, under the stale fluorescent lights, looking down at Barry’s photo with tired eyes, the smell was all he could think about.

“Look, I already told you. I don’t know who that is.” JJ tries his very best to keep his voice as empty as his face, but apparently being told to go to the police station at six in the morning with barely any sleep or food or at the very least weed in him has left him with very little patience. The officer standing over him grunts at the lie.

“This ain’t child’s play, it’s serious stuff, John.”

“It’s JJ.” JJ reminds the man for the tenth time through gritted teeth.

“That ain’t what it says on your birth certificate- “

“Yeah, well that birth certificate doesn’t mean shit.” He snaps, spitefully using any random excuse he can think of to contradict the officer in front of him. Neither of them say anything for a beat, a suffocating tension almost unbearable under the buzzing of the light and air conditioning. The officer straightens out his belt, hand resting on his gun.

“JJ, you’re ‘ere for a reason. Findin’ this man would mean many lives in the Outer Banks will be at less risk of addition.” The man gives JJ a forced smile. “Now be a saint and spill.”

JJ shrugs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, making faint lights dance across his vision. “It doesn’t matter. Another dealer will start dealing and then I’ll end up right back here.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, son. It does matter ‘cause if we can find ‘im, he can give us the information we need to make sure we’ll be better equipped for similar situations.”

JJ shakes his head, clenching his jaw shut at the officer's disingenuous optimism.

“Look kid, is there anything you can tell me? Anything you have can probably help.”

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, refusing to meet the man's eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.”

Another pause, another tense gap in the wildly strained conversation.

“Remember, this is a case for a drug dealer. You’d better be tellin’ the truth- “

“I’ve told you I don’t know who this guy is! What else is there to say? Would you like me to start makin’ shit up?”

“No, that’d be too easy for you, wouldn’t it?” The man dismisses, “Probably as natural as breathin’ for you, innit?” JJ shuts his eyes at the words, not fully being able to distinguish them from his dads as his heart rate spikes.

“Let me remind you that we know the crimes you’ve been involved in, the ones you’ve committed, the same ones that we’ve let go for your sake.” _How generous._

“You mean the ones you’ve let go from lack of evidence.” JJ snorts, wondering why he even made the effort to pretend at this point.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t take long for us to find a lil’. We got friends ‘round here, kid.” The officer smirks at the guy behind him, shaking his head, making JJ wonder why he didn’t outright just call him ignorant. That was one thing JJ was not, but the officer could think all he wanted and it wouldn’t steal any of JJ’s sleep, that’s for sure. JJ finally raises his head from its bowed position.

“Ain’t that a threat? Last time I checked, cops weren’t allowed to do that kinda thing- ”

“You listen here, how you gonna feel six months from now, sittin’ in juvenile prison in Wadesboro?” He slammed his hands down on the table, leaning towards JJ at an uncomfortable distance. JJ stares at him confused, trying to figure out his motive.

“You teens think you can just do anything you want without consequences, and boy, I thought someone with as many awakenings as you would know better. I know who you are, Maybank. The Cuts’ biggest party animal, got all the booze an’ girls you could ever want.” He mocked, forcing JJ to swallow the profanities and bile that suddenly reached his throat. He laughs instead, which comes out as more of a choking noise but whatever.

“You don’t know shit about me! Who told you this, your handy little policemen?”

“I’m no fool, boy. I’ve seen kids like you in an’ outta this place my whole life, thinkin’ you can just be havin’ sex an’ smokin’ weed til the day you die, not a damn thing to your name- “

“Kids like Pope, right? You arrested him last month, not because he did anything wrong, of course, but because he’s black? Just a wild guess.” JJ spat the words, not at all trying to hold back anymore. He remembers hearing about it, remembers the look on Heywards face when he found out and JJ couldn’t really tell who was in more denial. The officer looks back to the man behind him.

“Pope, ain’t that Heywards kid?” He turns back to JJ, “Look, I’m no racist, I just do my job like I’m meant to and I can’t say I appreciate the accusation- “

“You arrested him for fuckin’ driving a Nissan within the speed limit! If that’s not racist, I don’t know what is- “

The officer abruptly pushes himself away from the table, pointing a finger in JJ’s face, causing the metal chair to screech against the floor. JJ immediately goes tense, feeling two seconds away from walking out of the room.

“You need to shut your mouth, boy. You don’t seem to care to know what I could do to you, with the amount of crimes you’ve got under your name. I could get you in juvie for life.”

JJ snorts, rolling his neck to stop from completely losing his shit, letting it slip. “What, are you tryin’ to intimidate me? Look, I ain’t gonna tell you jack shit about Barry- “

“Barry? See, that wasn’t that hard, was it? Cooperating doesn’t need to be that difficult…” He writes something on his notepad, setting it aside a little more aggressively than necessary. “You got anythin’ else, kid?”

JJ takes a deep indiscreet breath, rubbing his knuckles against his thighs to stop his hands from shaking.

“No, that’s all I know. He’s a fucked up drug dealer who’s apparently named Barry. Can I go now?”

“You ever bought from him? It’s alright, we won’t say anything- “

“Oh my fucking- no, no I haven’t bought shit from him. You said it yourself, I’ll be in juvie soon, so why should I be saying any of this shit to you- “ He finally pushes himself away from the table causing the officer to jump to his feet.

“Calm down, JJ- “

“No, this is all a load of shit.” He snaps, standing straight up, a hard gaze in his eyes.

He caught the other policeman’s attention fairly quickly, who reaches his side, trying to calm him down and get him to talk.

“Calm down, alright- “

JJ shoves the arms away, stumbling around the chair. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! I’ve told you everything I know and you still sit here and ask- “

“Why don’t you come an’ sit down, alright, we care ‘bout you and what you have to say- “

That’s when JJ began to laugh, loudly and clearly in a sarcastic manner, his throat hurting at the effort.

“You, of all people, care about me?! No, cops don’t give a fuck about people like me, you sit down and act like you _give a shit_ at all but when it comes down to it, you know what you fuckin’ do? You leave us and act like we’re just _fucking criminals_. You forget we ever came to you asking for help in the first place- “ JJ’s anger gets the best of him as he pushes both of the cops arms away from him, glaring at both of them and his voice rises in frustration. One of the officers stretches a hand out, like he’s trying to tame a screaming child.

“Son- “

“I ain’t your son.”

“JJ, listen, let’s go an’ sit down. We can talk about it then.”

“I’m done! It’s like talkin’ to blank fuckin’ walls!”

“Fine, we’ll let you sit to cool down then. No questions.”

JJ turned before he even finished his compromise, swinging the door open and stepping in the hallway, avoiding the concerned looks he was given by a few other officers. His moment of recollection was cut short by the sound of a man running towards them, calling JJ’s full name with force before pulling his shoulder backwards.

“JJ Maybank, is it?”

“Yeah?” JJ tries to steady his voice. Maybe if he doesn’t sound like he wants to bolt, they’ll let him go.

“I am arresting you on suspicion of shoplifting. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given as evidence in a court of law.” The man proceeds to push a thrashing JJ against the wall and place the handcuffs on his wrists, strongly enough to bruise. _Shoplifting._ Another one of JJ’s habits, one he puts so little thought towards, he struggles to recall actually doing it. Panic slices through his body, making his restrained limbs feel utterly trapped.

“What the fuck, man?!” He shouts, trying to yank his arms out of the man’s tight grip. The other policemen mumble to each other in what JJ thinks of as delight, which only makes him seethe. He hears a voice question the paperwork that laid beside the officer that now held JJ’s arms.

“I’m sorry, kid. It was gonna happen someday.”

JJ gives a strong tug at that, at the underlying message behind his words. He was a Maybank, this fate was bound to him no matter what he did. JJ couldn’t help but start yelling.

“I _fucking hate you_ , shoplifting?! You’re arresting me for fucking shoplifting?!”

“The law’s the law, Maybank.”

“The law’s a load of shit!”

“You watch your mouth boy, I ain’t askin’ again- “

JJ shakes his head in a jerking motion. “Or what?! You’re gonna put me in juvie?!”

“Looks like you’re already goin’ there, kid.”

“Fuck off.” JJ forces out as he’s shoved into the wall. He almost regrets it as the policeman holding his arms lets go, letting the officer who questioned him turn him around and punch JJ directly in the abdomen, spitting out “I said watch your mouth.”

JJ doubles over as the breath leaves his lungs at the impact. He gasps, trying to recover as quickly as possible. “W-what the fuck is w-wrong with you?!”

The officer grasps JJ’s collar, yanking him into a standing position, muttering under his breath, making JJ strain to hear him. “You tell anyone I did that and I’ll make sure there’s no way you’re gettin’ bailed out, you got that?”

JJ’s mind immediately goes to Pope and John B. Years ago, Big John bailed JJ out once, acting like it wasn’t even an inconvenience. JJ was embarrassed beyond what he thought possible, feeling something he’s never quite felt around the Routledges; shame. John B pretended, at least JJ assumed he was pretending, that it didn’t matter either, like it was no big deal. Heyward made it a big deal when he bailed him out after Big John couldn’t, going on a long lecture that JJ remembers almost word for word from how intimidated he was. Now, though, it’s not like John B or Pope would be able to bail him out if they wanted to, and Kiara… no. Kie wasn’t even a possibility in JJ’s eyes. She would do it in a heartbeat but JJ would rather sit in a cell for a week straight then drag her down with him, which is why he didn’t tell any of them that he was called into the station, should things go south, which they were very much doing at the moment.

As the officers guided him into a cell, JJ tried for a neutral expression, acting like he was unaffected completely, not like he was confused or in a shit ton of pain. Not like he was internally panicking or spiralling at how immensely pissed off he was at the acrimonious downturn of everything. Sure, he hated cops before but now it was different.

Now it wasn’t hard to admit he hated them more than his dad.

The thought brought a wave of apprehension locking up his limbs as he ran his fingers through his blond hair worriedly. He bounced his leg when the realization finally dawned on him. Either he was going to juvie or his dad would bail him out, and right now, neither one sounded very welcoming.

JJ was given community service along with a few other compensations, which were gratefully better than he thought he’d somehow luck out on. Two days later, he was called back into the police station for more agonizing questioning and rehabilitation with a therapist. He didn’t know he was capable of so much dread until he actually considered what rehabilitation would entail. He hated the police but he also hated therapists. He lets himself think he’d rather endure beatings from his dad than waste hours on _mental health_ , of all things.

It’s a dark thought, one that reminds him of Pope and what he would say and the look he would give JJ the second he announced it aloud. Pope would say something like ‘don’t compare the two, JJ, for the love of God’ and John B would jokingly comment on how dramatic he was being, but knowing full well that JJ needed to be dramatic sometimes to _tolerate_ and _cope._ Kiara would get upset with him, not genuinely upset but in a concerned way, pretending to disapprove when really she didn’t know what to say. JJ still hasn’t spoken to any of them, feeling like they didn’t deserve to get involved in ‘his shit’. Maybe it was the Maybank way of thinking but whatever.

“Maybank, how lovely to meet you again.” The officer smirks, sinking into his chair with a sigh. JJ just shrugs, knowing when he’s reached his limit of energy to waste on someone, knowing this is exactly what it felt like.

“Alright, I see how it is. Let’s get straight to business then. You’ll go to therapy in a sec, I’ve been asked to supervise because… well you know…”

“Know what?” JJ asks innocently, playing dumb.

“You’re a _delinquent_ , Maybank. People have the right to be scared of ya.”

JJ just looks away, not feeling surprised or interested. He was used to the spiel. People heard the name of Maybank and felt the need to run the other way, to decline his party offers or for mothers to clutch their kid’s hands and wallets whenever he passed. This is mostly due to his father’s reputation, but JJ knows people have heard of himself getting around The Cut. After all, gossip spreads like wildfire.

He shrugs again.

“Right. I get it.”

“Let me remind you that parties and stuff ain’t allowed for ya right now, they wouldn’t help ya.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The officer leans forward, looking over JJ as if searching for the right words.

“And do us a favor, would ya? Try to keep your filthy hands off the girls from Figure Eight, I’ve had enough conversations with the mom’s over there. Let’s just say, they ain’t happy.”

JJ didn’t say anything at first, letting a little confusion wash over his face, shocked that a Kook mom would have that level of embarrassment for a Maybank.

“What the fuck, you can’t even make that shit up, man.”

The officer chuckles a little before sighing, sounding disapproving as ever.. “It is what it is, let’s go to your meeting.”

JJ must black out in the time it takes for him to get settled with his so-called therapist because even half an hour later, he doesn’t feel ‘settled’ with anything and he doesn’t even remember his answers to her soft questions.

“And JJ, how would you say your home life is?” The therapist asks after a long moment of flipping through papers.

“Fine.”

There’s another pause, one that makes JJ start to absentmindedly twist his rings around.

“You need to give me a little more information, dear.”

“It’s a normal home life. Yeah, that’s really it.”

“Okay…” She gives her fake smile, trying to catch his distracted eyes. “How about your dad. He’s the only parent you have with you, is that correct?”

“Yeah, my dad’s great.” It took years of practice to get that one down to a convincing level. Her smile falters.

“Okay, that’s not what it says here. Reports of shouting and recklessness from the neighbours, it seems to be like that every time you’re at his house- “

“Well the police checked it, right? That’s what it says? And it was fine, so…”

“How about you though, JJ?”

“What about me?”

“Forget about the cops for a minute. Don’t think about them, just think about you. How do you feel about your dad?”

JJ swallows his urge to snap at her. “I said he’s great. He’s my dad and that’s really it, no need to… Yeah, he’s fine.”

“Does he make you uncomfortable?”

JJ can’t, for once, manage this particular lie so he shakes his head firmly, adding “I don’t really see him much.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause I stay at my friends’ houses usually.”

“The question I’m trying to ask is, do you feel safe when you are with your dad, JJ?”

JJ nods tensely, feeling his patience run out. She doesn’t move on so he forces out “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why the ‘I guess’?”

“I don’t know, isn’t that why you’re here?” He finally snaps, running a hand through his hair. “I said I don’t see him much so there ain’t much to say about him.”

“Okay,” She nodded comfortingly and started to write something down in her notes before the officer leaning against the wall spoke up.

“Ma’am, if you don’t mind, could I speak to him for a bit? I think he needs a break.”

“Oh, of course. We’ll take a short breather and I need to write a few things down, so that’s fine.” She agrees softly. JJ eyes the officer without moving his head, glaring at him hard.

“Thank you, ma’am.” The therapist gently closes the door when the officer takes her spot across from JJ, giving him a stern look.

“Sort out whatever shit you need to sort out and start answering the questions, kid. We don’t have all day and I hope you realize that you’re just extending the process.” JJ raises his eyebrows defensively.

“I am answering the questions, you- “ JJ crosses his arms to match the officers, “fucking tool.”

“Kid, I’m not stupid.”

“What do you want me to say? I don’t see my dad much, I’m not lying to her!”

The officer laughs, as if to mask his irritation. “Don’t make me come over there, Maybank, I’ve had loud mouths like yours before ‘round here- “

“Yeah, right, ‘cause you’re gonna do that here- “

“Don’t underestimate me, kid.” JJ shakes his head, clutching the armrests to ground himself.

“You’re wasting your time, asshole.”

The officer stands and grips JJ’s arm, yanking it up and walking towards the door. “C’mon, kid. You really can’t help yourself, can ya?”

JJ stayed silent the whole walk back to his cell, not in the mood to mouth off when really all he wanted to do was be alone and dwell on the fact that this seemed to be his life a lot more often lately. It was a slippery slope that he didn’t know how to avoid for the life of him. Right before the turn he was planning to take, the officer shoves him in the other direction, in a room full of dusty paperwork and filing cabinets. JJ trips into a desk before the officer grabs his collar and knees his stomach, leaving a pain almost as bad as his dad leaves.

“What the fuck?!” He stumbles back, holding his stomach and trying to stop his coughing, holding out an arm at the officer.

“I’ve had enough of your shit, Maybank.” He swings a fist at JJ’s face, the familiar feeling of blood leaving his nose and down his face hitting JJ all at once. JJ kicks at the man's legs while holding his nose, trying to stumble away, an instinct he’s all too comfortable with. Instead, the man grabs the back of his shirt and pins him against one of the desks, punching the side of his face repeatedly. JJ’s vision goes black for a minute, not stopping him from kicking between the man’s legs, causing him to falter for half a second.

“You little shit- “ The officer throws another punch but misses in a trip on JJ’s leg.

“You little shit!” The man shouts, and JJ takes his moment of weakness to flee but fails when he feels a hand grab his ankle, pulling backwards. _Too slow_ something inside JJ’s mind taunts as the officer's punches land every time, his weight on top of JJ’s stomach causing the air to leave his lungs as he gasps for breath. JJ tries to block the hits, curling up when the man starts kicking, realising distantly that he was fucked no matter what he did now. Anything sounded better than this, though, so when he heard something about him needing to watch his mouth - for what felt like the fiftieth time today - he nods, a weak painful nod that causes more blood to spill on the floor and more pain to shoot through his neck.

The thick summer air was sweaty and unmoving, laying heavily on their outstretched limbs as the sun sat on the horizon. Kiara, Pope and John B had given up on any activity that meant moving or lifting or anything that didn’t revolve around _nothing_ as they laid around the Chateau’s porch, sluggishly lounging in silence with closed eyes and parted mouths. The silence was comforting and for a while, they kept it that way, feeling as any words would ruin the moment.

Beer was not of essence for once, as they had decided to lay off it for a bit, much thanks to Pope, who had gone into many lengthy speeches of how if they didn’t take a break their health would suffer for it and they would soon find themselves in the hospital. Considering that the last couple of nights had included ‘a plethora’ as Pope had worded it, apparently it was convincing enough for them to decide to take a day off.

A subtle breeze brushed the leaves on the trees, interrupting the quiet until Pope broke it even further.

“Yo, JJ’s been MIA for the last couple of days. Anyone seen him or find that weird and out of the ordinary?”

John B doesn’t even lift his head as he clears his throat, replying lazily with his eyes closed.

“Actually, that’s kinda normal. I’d say not weird.”

“He came around for a bit but didn’t stay long. Didn’t say shit about where he was going or what he’s been doing, just looked really pissed.” Kiara mumbles, stretching her arms from her position on the wicker couch.

“Oh fuck, pissed off JJ is never good.” Pope notes, only half joking.

“Any JJ is never good.” Kiara smiled.

“Agreed.” John B added sarcastically. As if on cue, a loud slam sounded from the screen door, jerking all of them out of their heat-induced trance, causing Pope to nearly launch out of his spot on the rocking chair. John B and Kiara share a look as they sit up, hearing loud swearing from what sounded like the kitchen.

“John B, where the fuck’s your beer?!” JJ yells, swiping at the blood that stubbornly continued to seep from his nose, leaning in the refrigerator. As the three enter, they make out his hunched form before he pops up and glances at them, eyes landing on Kiara’s shocked face and cringing for what’s coming.

She steps forward, her brows pulled together as she scans his body worriedly. “JJ, what the _fuck_ happened to your face?” She gets closer as he flinches away. “Who did that to you?!”

It was somewhat difficult to make out the red-soon-to-be-purple-bruises under all the blood on his face, especially since JJ refused to let them stare, turning around in annoyance.

“That’s not really my problem, right now, I asked where the fucking beer is.” He snapped, regretting it as soon as he said it.

“I’m sorry, what?!” Kiara asked, entering the kitchen and hesitantly pulling his shoulder so she can get some light on his face. JJ swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, rolling his eyes, feeling the familiar reluctance at letting her see him like this. The tears sprung to her eyes and he can’t bring himself to say anything, still winding down from his brain spiraling and his heart fucking racing after leaving the station.

“Look, man, I don’t think drinking’s gonna help right now.” John B mumbled, staring at JJ with the shock that always seemed to cross his face when he saw JJ like this, even if he’s seen it the most out of all of them.

“Seriously, that’s not a good idea at all- “ Pope adds, looking like a deer stuck in headlights at the sight of the wreck JJ found himself in. JJ pushes Kiara away as calmly as he can before running his shaking hands through his hair, back down his neck, pacing to the living room and eyeing the cabinets.

“John B, is there any _fucking_ alcohol in this house?!”

John B takes a deep breath, running his own hands over his head before tentatively caving. “Yeah, there’s some vodka in the cooler…” He sighs, selfishly sympathizing with JJ, knowing what it was like needing no questions to be asked and a bit of alcohol, maybe some weed too. He should try to stop JJ, he knows, but he also isn’t equipped to have the boy throw it back in his face, knowing he’s seen John B drink out of anger a few times in the past.

Pope gives him a disapproving look when Kiara sputters, following JJ to the cooler, sounding defeated.

“No, dude, you can’t just keep getting high and drunk to solve your problems- “

“Pretty sure I can, Kie.” He gulps down a quarter of the bottle, a skill he always boasted about. Kiara rubs her forehead, one hand on her hip, giving him a shake of her head.

“JJ, look at you! This literally isn’t helping anything- “ She grabs the bottle and JJ lets her take it but refuses eye contact, stepping away from her, “You need to go to the hospital, I’ll drive- “

“Yeah, c’mon, JJ.” Pope continues, reaching for JJ’s arm when it gets slapped away instantly.

“Can you guys just _fuck off_?!”

“I’m serious, who did this to you? Was it your dad- “ Kiara urges, following him to the couch, sounding like she can’t quite keep her voice down. JJ shakes his head, putting it in his hands.

“Does it matter?!”

“It does, dude.” John B murmurs, looking uncomfortable. JJ shoots up from the couch, holding his arms up defensively, laughing humorlessly.

“Oh my God, I fucking hate you guys, why is it a game of twenty questions every time?” He pushes past John B and Pope, smacking the door open. Kiara stands as well, shaking her head incredulously at his back.

“Where are you gonna go, JJ? Fucking Barry’s place?” She shouts, knowing he’s been involved with the drug dealer more often now, hating the very idea. JJ ignores her, pacing around the front of the house. Kiara pushes the door open with force that makes John B and Pope share a look before they follow her out.

“What, are you gonna start doing coke now? Is that it?!”

“Kie, come on.” John B mutters, placing his hand on her shoulder but she steps away from him when JJ turns to her, walking up to her.

“Yeah, I’m gonna start doin’ coke now, Kie, great fuckin’ idea- “ He matches her stubborn energy, getting close to her face making John B sigh.

“Oh yeah, that’s smart, just throw your whole fucking life away!” Kiara taunts and deep down, JJ knows this side of her, has seen it countless times before, when one of the boys do something stupid, she provokes them, forces them to realize how iditotic they were being. JJ wasn’t really in the mood though.

“It’s not like you give a shit, Kiara- “ He says it, two inches away from her face, three inches taller than her, knowing the second it came out of his mouth that it was wrong, that he was being his spiteful, defensive, cornered self-sabotaging self. The self he hated so much but couldn’t seem to shake. Pope’s hand floats near his shoulder, as if to interject.

“We do give a shit, JJ! Jesus, we give a shit about you all the time!” Pope yells. JJ just scoffs, feeling himself lash out at being surrounded by the people he loved, listening to them argue with him.

“You can stop at any fucking time, if you’re just gonna throw it in my face- “ JJ snaps.

“Right, like that would help anything- “ Kiara rebukes sarcastically.

“JJ- “ John B starts.

“What if I told you I already started on coke, huh? What then- “

“No, fuck no, JJ, please,” Pope groans, “You know how bad that stuff is!”

“What difference does it make anymore?” JJ retreats when Kiara lets out a weak laugh, one that actually makes him want to put his foot in his mouth.

“So you really just don’t give a fuck anymore?” She shouts.

“I’m so sick of your shit, JJ!” John B breaks the argument, causing the first silence in what felt like ten minutes, one that leaves JJ’s ears ringing. JJ licks his lips, looking down, annoyed, astounded that John B once again takes the cake on the most shittiest thing to possibly say.

“Huh… my shit. Right.” He nods sarcastically.

“Yes, your shit!” John B continues, “You’re always getting drunk or high or doing another fuckin’ thing that’s gonna ruin everything for you!” JJ now steps in John B’s space, pointing a finger in his chest.

“Yeah? What the fuck do you call what you do? I’m sorry, man, but feeling sorry for yourself is your specialty, not fucking mine, so don’t even start- “

“At least I can hold my own, whereas with you, it’s always us looking after you! And look, I get it, you’re goin’ through a rough time right now, but this is just fucking stupid.” _Bullshit_.

“A rough time.” JJ chuckled, looking over at Pope and Kiara for a reaction, as if to say ‘get a load of this’. Kiara gives him a distraught look that says not to joke right now. So he makes up his mind. “Fuck you guys.” He says it lightly, with no real bitterness behind it. Maybe if he wasn’t shaking so hard and could actually see straight he would give a sign that he’s just fucking around, but he can’t bring himself to do anything besides walk away, ignoring their attempts at trying to straighten this shit out.

Kiara gives the boys a look, “I’ll go,” before she jogs after JJ, rolling her eyes.

She catches up to him right as he’s hopping onto his bike. She sees him spot her before giving a forced sigh, rubbing his eyes frustratedly. She stands in front of his bike, hands on her hips.

“JJ, you have a whole bottle of vodka in you, you’re not about to just drive off- “

“I don’t really feel like being coddled right now, Kie- “

“I’m not _coddling_ you- “

JJ gestures for her to step aside. “Then move because I’m leaving- “

“No, I’m not gonna move out of the fucking way, JJ, if it means watching you kill yourself!”

“Kiara, please. I really don’t wanna argue but I swear to God, if you don’t _move_ \- “

Kiara looks around, as if searching for a compromise. “JJ, we don’t have to go to the hospital or anything like that, alright? Just please, come inside.”

“What, so I can get cornered again?”

“JJ-”

“Oh my God,” JJ groans, “Kiara fucking Carrera, move.”

They both stare at each other, both equally stubbornly looking for an out, before Kiara finally steps to the side. His stomach sinks at the bitterness in her voice at her next words.

“Fine, but when you kill yourself, it’s not my fucking fault.”

He doesn’t let the hurt show, only revs the throttle, “Thank fuck.” and speeds off into the Kildare roads.

It was around ten o’clock in the morning when Kiara got the call from the hospital. They told her that she had been the provided emergency contact and JJ had been admitted. She tried to connect the concepts together on her drive over to the Chateau, a seemingly impossible task in her devastation. She had tears streaming down her face by the time she told John B and Pope, not being able to shake her last words to JJ. After that, they all went straight to the hospital, surprised to hear their best friend had not been in a road accident, but instead was found passed out on the road from excessive alcohol intake. Kiara vaguely recalls them telling her this over the phone, but the relief she feels the second time around is perhaps twice as strong.

When they were finally able to see him - about two impossibly long days later - they were told visitors were to go in separately, not to overwhelm him or tire him out too much.

Kiara walked in the room feeling hesitant and nervous at what she was about to see, about to feel. The distinct smell of antiseptic caused her to wrinkle her nose as she lowered herself in the seat beside his bed. She felt like she at least needed to act strong since the last hour had been filled with non-stop tears, so she took a deep breath, feeling it slowly leave her system at the sight of him.

“Hey, JJ.” She mumbled, feeling dried tears on her face as he met her eyes.

“Hey, Kie.” She could tell he was forcing as much energy into the words as he could, sitting up a little straight in the bed. She smiled at him for his effort.

“You look like shit.” She tries her best to lighten the mood, a job that usually belongs to JJ. He nods, raising his eyebrows.

“Trust me, I know. John B’s made that point very clear.” He smiles, a sight that instantly lifts the weight from her chest. A long silence settles over the room before JJ speaks up.

“I’m sorry, Kie.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. We were all a little in the wrong and it doesn’t matter anyways- “

“Yeah it does, dude. I was such a dick to you and the pogues, I should’ve listened.”

“Yeah, actually you should’ve.” She quips, smiling sweetly while placing her hand in his hair and ruffling it around a bit. He leans into it playfully when she giggles until they slip into another silence.

“I said so much shit to you- “

“JJ, hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Alright? I didn’t understand what the hell was going on, none of us did, we were just concerned.” She watches him take this in, no longer being able to hold back the question she was dying to ask. “It was your dad, right?”

“No.” He muttered, looking away from her.

“Who then? Who was the piece of shit did that to you?”

JJ looks over her shoulder before lowering his voice. “Kie, you can’t tell anyone. Seriously, not John B or Pope either.”

“Okay, why?”

“Because it has to do with the police and I know they’re already in shit with them, I don’t want them to bring it up if they’re arrested again- “

“Oh _fuck no._ It wasn’t that officer was it?”

JJ tilts his head and hesitates. “How did you- “

“He came by here yesterday to investigate, but he mentioned shit like you deserved what you got.” She dropped her head in her hands, rubbing her scalp. “What an asshole.” He grabs her hand to get her attention.

“Kie, don’t do anything, alright?”

“We’ll see.”

“No, I know you wanna try and help but it’s just gonna make it worse. You gotta trust me on this one.” He urges her, almost begging. She stares at him before slowly nodding once.

“Okay, fine. As long as you promise you won’t do this again.” She motions around the bed, hinting at the whole situation of him getting drunk off his ass and all of them fighting.

“I promise.”

She smiles, placing her other hand on top of the one he was still holding and shaking it a little. He observes her for a moment before a mischievous smile pulls at his lips.

“Hey, you’ve been crying ‘bout me, haven’t you?”

She turns her head in an exaggerated direction, letting go of his hand and leaning back in her chair as he teases her, laughing.

“What can I say, I love you too much.” She replies, like she has no choice in the matter, wiping her damp cheeks. He shrugs.

“Can’t blame you, I love me too.”

“You asshole.”

He smiles a genuine smile, reaching for her hand again, which she lets him take as they sit in a comfortable quiet, rubbing each other’s knuckles. When JJ speaks, Kiara jumps a little at his voice.

“Kie?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” He says it lightly, like it’s freeing for him, like the words themselves give him a break from the unfairness in his life and she instantly feels a warm comforting wave of wash over her.


End file.
